


Grace & Glory

by Glinda



Series: All That Never Was [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Apocalypse, Character of Color, F/M, On the Run, YTNW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-18
Updated: 2008-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/pseuds/Glinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master does not forgive or forget, San Francisco pays the price. (Or: In which the Master flattens San Fransisco, Grace and Chang Lee run away and find each other.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace & Glory

The rain pours down the window in front of her in a seemingly unending torrent. Perched on a stool, she nurses her long-gone cold coffee, and stares out at the people rushing past under their umbrellas and newspapers. She tells herself that it’s the rain that keeps her here, away from the meetings that she should be in, her broken pager no longer working crushed beneath the heel of her elegant yet sturdy boots. Harder to explain is the cell-phone she threw into traffic and the way those same boots had led her firmly in the opposite direction of anyone she knew. Its still early but behind her she can hear her fellow customers crowding round the screen, exclaiming at the news dominating the output of her single news channel. Dead presidents and flying, killing machines of death. And behind it all she can hear mad joyful laughter, laughter she’s never heard before yet is somehow, terrifyingly familiar.

As recognisable as the voice in her dreams like but so unlike the voice she remembers from New Year’s Eve seven years before, telling her to run. Run for her life and not look back.

She thinks of all the places she could run to. Friends, family, colleagues. She discards each in turn. Too many questions that she can’t answer even in the safety of her own head. She feels frozen to the spot, her brain slow and dull with the all enveloping fear of what she senses is to come. Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice the young man come through the door. Dripping wet, he bypasses the queue and the other customers, joining her at the window without a word. They watch the rain and the people streaming past for a while in silence.

“He’s coming for us, isn’t he.”

She turns to look at the young man beside her. He’s as scruffy as he was last time she saw him, but not really a kid anymore. The shyness is gone, and he meets her eyes steady and unflinching. His words articulate what she’s been struggling to frame all morning.

“Yes, Chang Lee. I think he is.”

This is not the time for lying, either to herself or him. They both know what the man laughing on the screen behind them is capable of. He’s killed them both before, and something tells her that there’ll be no 11th hour miracle courtesy of a sentimental time machine this time. He’s not the kind to forgive and forget. She turns back to the rain, questions and plans churning and streaming through her mind, considering, debating, rejecting. She can feel his eyes on her, and she wishes she had answers for him. Instead she feels one of his hands cover the one of hers that still grips the mug in front of her. Fingers larger than her own gently unwrap her hand from the handle and hold it loosely. He doesn’t speak until she turns to look at him again.

“Time to go Dr Holloway.”

She feels herself nod, and rise to follow him. It’s not until they’re back in the rain that she feels the daze lift from her mind. She looks up at the buildings around her, the familiar architecture of the city that has been her home for so long. Somehow she knows she will never see them again. His hand is warm in hers and she values his strength now, as she takes a moment to reclaim her own.

They drive along deserted highways for weeks, stopping occasionally in backwater towns for supplies. People are suspicious of all outsiders, rumours of what’s happening in the cities filtered down and only half-believed. They avoid the larger towns, the strange calm of the populations, bound by fear and their cell-phones into uneasy obedience, is somehow worse than the openly hostile stares. She keeps her hair dyed ash blonde in gas station bathrooms and he grows what she can only describe as a dubious moustache.

They find the resistance and do their bit. It’s not much but its better than head-long flight. They have knowledge that the resistance needs and patching up those who escape from the mines, the dockyards and the destruction, soothes her conscience a little about those patients she abandoned the day she left.

The ship has moved on when they return to San Francisco, and the desolation left behind almost breaks her. But she can hear a voice at the back of her head, whispering about not giving up, not letting the Master win. She whispers reassurances and secrets against Lee’s skin at night, and he whispers his own against hers. She wonders if it’s really the Doctor she hears in her head, or just her mind’s way of coping. She wonders if he can see through her eyes like the Master saw through his that evening in the park. He reckons they should give him a good show, anyway, and they live and love that little bit harder and prouder than they would otherwise. Making the most of their tiny human lives, making every last one of their limited seconds count.

Nothing lasts forever, of course, and the end comes with soldiers in the night. She’s caught and he flees, as their long made plans dictate. They have places to run to now, but each has kept their own a secret from each other, what you don’t know you can’t betray seems to be the resistance’s mantra. What she doesn’t know can’t be tortured out of her is her own. She realistic not fatalistic, she’s been under his power before, she has no illusions about where her breaking points are. They keep each other safe by not sharing certain things. Heroics will only get them both killed. As she’s dragged away she catches sight of him high in another building, watching her, conflicted. Natural instinct to survive fighting against loyalty and friendship. In her head she screams at him to run and he disappears, all around her the guards flinch, but don’t let go. They search for hours but he’s vanished like so much smoke, his teenage years surviving the street gangs have taught him well.

She wakes in chains aboard the Valiant. She reads the anger behind the triumph on the Master’s face and knows that he’s still free. The thought gives her the strength to keep her head high in the face of the horror that follows. The girl who cleans up after the Master’s games, whispers stories of the Doctor’s plans, her fears for and pride in her sister, out there walking the earth putting everything into motion. It doesn’t surprise her, and she doesn’t doubt that it will work. Holds her certainty at her centre, calming her in the face of the madness that surrounds her. It’s someone else’s turn for heroics, all they need to do now is survive.


End file.
